Doing the Right Thing
folder
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
5,205
Reviews:
24
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
5,205
Reviews:
24
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS) or Angel, the Series (AtS); nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Five
Chapter Five
*Cleveland, one week later.*
It as a Hellmouth, all right. No doubt about it. Spike could feel jittery, aggressive energy flow through his entire body, making his demon stand up and take notice. Hadn’t felt anything like this since Sunnydale.
Kind of invigorating.
It was late, past midnight. He’d said goodnight to Tara/Jana shortly after accompanying her to a restaurant. Didn’t think he should let her walk around a Hellmouth after dark by herself. Despite all his educating lectures and demonstrations about vampires, her only experience with one–that she could remember–was himself. She’d be supper, for sure.
Tara had decided to travel with him to Cleveland, to see the witch, and to try and connect with her past. She was nervous about showing up at a stranger’s place, but Spike kept reassuring her of her welcome. Christ, the Scoobies would lay out a white velvet carpet for her.
The witch, Mrs. Letting, thought she could help both of them, but the energy she would have to expend on the spells would have to rebuild between each of their rituals. Spike had decided to let Tara go first, tomorrow night on the full moon. That way he could deposit her with Faith and have no responsibilities while he underwent his own ritual. Plus he suspected that In-her-right-mind-Tara might be very big on him contacting Buffy, instead of doing the memory loss spell.
She had a thing about memory loss, as he recalled. She was likely to be pretty pissed off at the Powers that Be. Or whoever was responsible for bringing her back.
Pissing off a witch--even a lily white one–never good. Let the Scoobies handle her.
In the mean time, he had installed her in a motel room next door to his, courtesy of Angel’s Wolfram and Hart expense account. He’d bought her a boxful of Wicca books, and she was happily reading and sipping herbal tea, while he felt the need to let off a little steam.
He could feel he was nearing the heart of the Hellmouth. He was in an older neighborhood now, old part of town.
Yeah, there was a demon bar. The Rialto. Probably opened in the forties, by the look of the neighborhood.
A little whiskey, a little blood, maybe some Hellmouth gossip– Spike wandered in.
It was larger than Willy’s, and a little nicer. Had a small shiny dance floor and a demon three piece combo trying to play. Vamp hos in abundance, a few humans–hopefully they knew what they were doing in a place like this, and wouldn’t require him to rescue them.
He ordered some o-neg, a shot of Jack,and a beer and found a small table on the edge of the dance floor, where he could watch the show.
The combo started a Rolling Stone cover, “Under my Thumb”, kind of at a slow tempo, Spike thought. As the dance floor filled up, he figured it was on purpose. He watched the mostly female dancers in appreciation and shot down a tumbler of whiskey, followed by the blood chaser.
If he used his imagination, he could almost think that the brunette and the tiny blond dancing right up near the band were Buffy and Faith. They were dressed perfectly. The brunette was in tight black leather pants and a red silky tank top that looked like lingerie–probably was, over a black lace push-em-up bra, which mostly showed.. . everything. Very Faith.
The blond was in brown leather pants, and high Buffy type boots. Her shirt was cream colored, with lace and embroidery, saved from being demure by the fact it was completely see through. Spike could make out the lace pattern of her of her camisole top, which also had that delicious push-em -up effect.
Spike noticed other things. Both were sweating, just enough to leave a tasty sheen. Humans. Or, at least, not vamps.
He wondered if they were ho s. The blond looked a little more sophisticated than the poor little girl, barely older than Dawn, who worked the corner near his favorite bar back in LA.
Maybe, if she was a little older, a little less pitiful, he could make it with her. She was the right height, right build–very nice little ass– Spike got to his feet, slugged down a few swallows of liquor, and made his way to the dance floor.
A few women gave him the eye, one tried to latch on to him, but he made his way toward the lookalikes.
Man, she even smelled like vanilla shampoo, Spike thought, as he neared the girls.
“Hi, ladies,” he said.
The two women whirled around toward him, so fast it made him dizzy.
“What the fuck?”said Faith.
“Son of a bitch! ” Buffy hollered, and then they were on him .
He’d forgotten how hard slayers could punch. “Bloody Hell,” he muttered, as all went black.
*Cleveland, one week later.*
It as a Hellmouth, all right. No doubt about it. Spike could feel jittery, aggressive energy flow through his entire body, making his demon stand up and take notice. Hadn’t felt anything like this since Sunnydale.
Kind of invigorating.
It was late, past midnight. He’d said goodnight to Tara/Jana shortly after accompanying her to a restaurant. Didn’t think he should let her walk around a Hellmouth after dark by herself. Despite all his educating lectures and demonstrations about vampires, her only experience with one–that she could remember–was himself. She’d be supper, for sure.
Tara had decided to travel with him to Cleveland, to see the witch, and to try and connect with her past. She was nervous about showing up at a stranger’s place, but Spike kept reassuring her of her welcome. Christ, the Scoobies would lay out a white velvet carpet for her.
The witch, Mrs. Letting, thought she could help both of them, but the energy she would have to expend on the spells would have to rebuild between each of their rituals. Spike had decided to let Tara go first, tomorrow night on the full moon. That way he could deposit her with Faith and have no responsibilities while he underwent his own ritual. Plus he suspected that In-her-right-mind-Tara might be very big on him contacting Buffy, instead of doing the memory loss spell.
She had a thing about memory loss, as he recalled. She was likely to be pretty pissed off at the Powers that Be. Or whoever was responsible for bringing her back.
Pissing off a witch--even a lily white one–never good. Let the Scoobies handle her.
In the mean time, he had installed her in a motel room next door to his, courtesy of Angel’s Wolfram and Hart expense account. He’d bought her a boxful of Wicca books, and she was happily reading and sipping herbal tea, while he felt the need to let off a little steam.
He could feel he was nearing the heart of the Hellmouth. He was in an older neighborhood now, old part of town.
Yeah, there was a demon bar. The Rialto. Probably opened in the forties, by the look of the neighborhood.
A little whiskey, a little blood, maybe some Hellmouth gossip– Spike wandered in.
It was larger than Willy’s, and a little nicer. Had a small shiny dance floor and a demon three piece combo trying to play. Vamp hos in abundance, a few humans–hopefully they knew what they were doing in a place like this, and wouldn’t require him to rescue them.
He ordered some o-neg, a shot of Jack,and a beer and found a small table on the edge of the dance floor, where he could watch the show.
The combo started a Rolling Stone cover, “Under my Thumb”, kind of at a slow tempo, Spike thought. As the dance floor filled up, he figured it was on purpose. He watched the mostly female dancers in appreciation and shot down a tumbler of whiskey, followed by the blood chaser.
If he used his imagination, he could almost think that the brunette and the tiny blond dancing right up near the band were Buffy and Faith. They were dressed perfectly. The brunette was in tight black leather pants and a red silky tank top that looked like lingerie–probably was, over a black lace push-em-up bra, which mostly showed.. . everything. Very Faith.
The blond was in brown leather pants, and high Buffy type boots. Her shirt was cream colored, with lace and embroidery, saved from being demure by the fact it was completely see through. Spike could make out the lace pattern of her of her camisole top, which also had that delicious push-em -up effect.
Spike noticed other things. Both were sweating, just enough to leave a tasty sheen. Humans. Or, at least, not vamps.
He wondered if they were ho s. The blond looked a little more sophisticated than the poor little girl, barely older than Dawn, who worked the corner near his favorite bar back in LA.
Maybe, if she was a little older, a little less pitiful, he could make it with her. She was the right height, right build–very nice little ass– Spike got to his feet, slugged down a few swallows of liquor, and made his way to the dance floor.
A few women gave him the eye, one tried to latch on to him, but he made his way toward the lookalikes.
Man, she even smelled like vanilla shampoo, Spike thought, as he neared the girls.
“Hi, ladies,” he said.
The two women whirled around toward him, so fast it made him dizzy.
“What the fuck?”said Faith.
“Son of a bitch! ” Buffy hollered, and then they were on him .
He’d forgotten how hard slayers could punch. “Bloody Hell,” he muttered, as all went black.